Heart of the Guardian
by KyaniteD
Summary: LS-RevanXBastila. Femslash. Post-KOTOR 1. A thoughtful gift from Revan lets Bastila reflect on Revan's fate and burden.


A/N: Just something that came to my mind after purchasing all the finest weapons and armor  
for myself and Bastila (namely Heart of the Guardian and Mantle of the Force), only to learn  
much later that she wouldn't return to my party before the end. All the wasted money. T_T

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**Heart of the Guardian**  
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Injustice knew no rest, and so they had left Coruscant once again with new orders for another  
delicate mission in the service of the Republic.

Bastila was studying the new star maps with Mission, when she heard a rustling sound and  
caught a sudden movement in the corner of her eye. She had just enough time to look up  
and raise her hands to catch a heavy bundle of cloth Revan had thrown at her.

"What's this?" Bastila asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Stuff," Revan shrugged at her.

"Eloquent as ever, my love. So tell me, what's this 'stuff'?"

"It's yours. I made it for you while you were... gone."

"And it really took a long time to make," Mission chipped in. "None of us could sleep for  
weeks because _someone_ used every minute of their free time to chisel love ballads into  
durasteel."

Bastila tentatively opened the bundle. "A lightsaber?" Images briefly flashed through her  
mind. "Malak took my lightsaber when- " She activated the weapon.

"It's red," she stated flatly.

"See, I knew she wouldn't even appreciate it! Can I have it? Please?" Within seconds Mission  
had crossed the room and was tugging excitedly at Revan's robe.

Bastila was amazed by how lightly Mission had taken the news of Jeero actually being Revan  
and how she continued to treat her as the jovial smuggler she had been introduced to. She  
was even more amazed that Revan let her get so close, tolerating the seemingly utter  
disregard of what had happened and transpired since they had left Taris so many months  
ago.

Revan shook her head. "No, take another look. It's not red. It's a yellow beam with a red  
glow."

"Still no subtlety lost there." Bastila said defiantly.

Revan's stone-faced expression turned into a small smile. "Nope, it's as beautiful as you  
are," she replied, deliberately ignoring Bastila's tone.

Mission and Bastila groaned and rolled their eyes.

"Hey, what? I think Revan's right!"

Three sets of eyes turned toward the hallway. "Shut up, Carth!"

The pilot shrugged. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but I like it."

"I never said I didn't like it," Bastila snapped at him. She looked back at the unique weapon  
in her hand. "It's just... I think... it's me. It's my fault. Of course it's beautiful. And I'm here  
now, so it shouldn't matter."

Revan watched her and her smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. She walked over  
to the table and reached for the lightsaber. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, you know... I'll just  
make you a new one."

But Bastila held on to it. "NO! No, I want to keep it. Please? I do like it, I'm sorry about what  
I said. It's just that it reminds me- and, well, maybe that's a good thing, right? To always  
have a reminder of our own fallibility?"

Revan looked at her and Bastila found herself staring up into the scarred and marred face of  
a Sith lord, devoid of all human expression.

"I'm sorry!" She whispered, but it was too late.

Revan reached up and touched her own face, gingerly tracing the scar across her left eye.  
Underestimating Malak had cost her an eye. But underestimating her had cost him his life.

"Or our own blindness," she said softly. "I'm sorry, Bastila, I should make you a new  
lightsaber. Or better yet, I should let you make yourself a new lightsaber. Just like it's  
supposed to be."

Revan turned away and left the room.

"You know," Mission said, "sometimes it's hard to believe you two are in love."

"Sometimes I'm not even sure if we really are," Bastila replied. She studied the carved shaft  
of the lightsaber, tracing the symbols with her fingertip. "But it seems that we are."

Carth looked at them and cleared his throat. "So ladies," he said with an overly cheerful  
voice, "did you figure out where to go next?"

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0==[/][/][/][/]=={==========================

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Hours later, Bastila was still sitting in the comm room. She had been reviewing transmission  
protocols, but as the night cycle approached and the noises on the ship quieted down, her  
thoughts wandered back to the events of the day. How they had discussed their new  
objectives, their next steps and the best places to stock up supplies. How Revan had  
retrieved an inconspicuous bundle from the cargo hold, how she, Bastila, had ruined the  
moment and how Revan had left the room, convinced that she had hurt Bastila, when it quite  
obviously had been the other way around.

Bastila sighed. She had wanted to follow Revan.

Out of the room, out of the light... the truth was that she would want to follow Revan  
anywhere. Light or darkness didn't hold the allure and power Revan held. If Revan had  
returned to the dark side, it wouldn't have taken torture to convince her to follow.

Whenever Revan turned away from her, whenever she left the room, whenever there was a  
distance between them, Bastila had an acute sense of loss, and neither light nor shadow  
could ever fill the gap. She wondered how much of this was due to their bond. And then she  
wondered what the nature of their bond actually was.

What else had been brought to life when she had sustained Revan's life with her own?

She remembered the moment when she had removed Revan's mask. How she had expected  
proudly marked features like the ones she had seen on other high-ranking Sith. How she had  
found tortured and abused skin instead. She had realized that Revan had not taken pleasure  
or pride but had suffered deeply and for the fraction of a moment she had considered letting  
her go, letting her slip away and become one with the Force.

Some would say erasing her memory and replacing her identity had been an undeserved act  
of mercy. But Bastila knew better. She knew that it was driving Revan mad, that it consumed  
her from within to not fully know or understand the crimes she was trying to atone for.

Knowing what she herself had done, what had been done to her was difficult. But at least  
she had something to hold on to, something to negate, to make up for, to feel guilty for.

Revan only had the contempt in people's eyes. Despite what Admiral Dodonna had said,  
Revan was rarely greeted as a hero. Most people remembered all too well the crimes of the  
Dark Lord and she was distraught by the fact that she didn't even remember what she had  
done to them to deserve their hatred.

Bastila didn't know if the council was right, if Revan had been too dangerous and too far  
beyond salvation to heal her mind and allow her to keep her memories. What she had seen  
on Revan's ship had cast doubts on every theory she had developed regarding the Dark  
Lord. Revan never appeared to be consumed by greed for power and violence. Every move  
was coolly calculated, every word carefully chosen. She hadn't indulged in any crazed talk of  
self-glorification or self-justification.

And it had given her pause.

She activated the lightsaber again and watched as the blade extended to its full length. The  
yellow beam was tightly focused, brimming with energy. The red glow was emitting a piercing  
heat and she could see the hot air around it flickering restlessly. It was a beautiful weapon.  
She was sure that it was useful and quite deadly, but it was also exceptionally beautiful.

She had seen the lightsaber Revan used. It had a light blue beam surrounded by a violet  
glow. From afar it could be easily mistaken for a guardian's weapon, but whoever took the  
time to take a second, closer look would notice the difference. The blade was short and  
compact and the glow crisp and cold. The blade had sliced through a freighter's hull with  
frightening ease, and the sheer coldness it seemed to emit made her shudder whenever she  
laid eyes on it.

She knew Revan's saber must have been built around special crystals, but when she had  
asked Revan about it, she had been vague about their origins. She had wondered about it,  
as she had wondered about all their adventures during her absence.

The crystal in her own lightsaber must have been of the same mysterious origin as Revan's.  
The way they appeared to have opposite properties made it likely that they were a pair.  
Maybe they even belonged to the mythical crystals that were mentioned in the archives.

The thought that these crystals had lasted through millennia and were reunited as a pair in  
Revan's hands, and that Revan would entrust her with one of them brought a new meaning  
to the gift. She regretted being self-absorbed and jumping to conclusions, unknowingly  
dismissing the true meaning and intention. She had treated it as an accusation, as a mocking  
reminder, when it was a declaration of love, a symbol of trust, and a promise.

She smiled, even as the intense light and heat of the weapon caused her eyes to tear up.

"You should deactivate it. It's enough if one of us has her eyesight ruined by a lightsaber."

Revan had entered the small room and was standing by the door in some ridiculously childish  
nightwear Jeero had insisted on buying just to irritate Bastila.

As the memory fleetingly came alive, it was Jeero standing before her, the woman she had  
fallen in love with. Jeero's carefree spirit had made it easy to forget who she had been. Her  
restored face held little resemblance to the one of the Dark Lord and her laughter was so  
contagious that it had taken Bastila every ounce of her Jedi discipline to not join in. The only  
bad thing the dark side would have had to feed on where her bad puns, her terrible sense of  
humor and her corny pick-up lines. All of which Bastila grew to like quicker than she thought  
possible.

"Will you come to bed? I've been waiting for you." Jeero wiggled her eyebrows suggestively  
and Bastila had to stifle a laugh.

"Please don't tell me you honestly think you can lure me into your bed in this get-up?"

Jeero reached up and began to unbutton the shirt. "Well, no, I just thought I'd hide my true  
intentions from anybody who might still be up beside you, but if you insist on being  
presented with incentives-"

"Oh, no, no!" Bastila rushed to her lover, quickly halting the movement of her nimble  
fingers."That won't be necessary." She looked up and was greeted with a genuine smile.

"You're Jeero."

"Yes Ma'am. Smuggler and clown supreme, at your service."

"But you're also Revan."

"Or so you say. Dark Lord of the Ebon Hawk, also at your service."

Bastila playfully slapped her shoulder. They both knew there was little humor in that  
statement, but they both wanted to ignore that right now.

"And you're mine."

"Quite right, m'lady."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Bastila." Revan reached up and gently caressed Bastila's tear-streaked  
cheek. "There is nothing I'd rather be than your lover. My heart is the only thing I know to be  
true."

Bastila smiled sadly. "I'm sor-"

But Revan silenced her apology with a kiss. "No. You are here, I am here and we are  
together now. If we keep apologizing for the past we will miss the future," she grinned  
mischievously and added, "which begins tonight, in a warm bed with soft sheets and  
cushions..."

Bastila knew that Revan's lighthearted playfulness was partly a facade for her sake. But she  
knew it was also for Revan's sake. She wanted to hold on to the only person she knew how  
to be, she enjoyed being. And Bastila gladly took the offered gift of escape, to pretend for a  
few hours that they were only two people in love, insatiable, inseparable.

Revan took her hand and nudged her toward the door, but Bastila stopped and glanced back  
at the lightsaber.

"So, did you figure it out?" Revan asked, her voice betraying a notion of insecurity.

Bastila shook her head. "No, not all of it. But I intend to hold you to that promise when I do."

"Oh, good." The cocky resolve was back in place. "Bed now?"

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0==[/][/][/][/]=={==========================

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End file.
